Turnabout
by VMargarita
Summary: Lisbon was desperate to change Jane's behavior, but the results of your actions can be unexpected.  Warning: Spanking, sex.
1. Chapter 1

At 10:15 p.m. there were only two people in the offices of Teresa Lisbon's unit at the CBI: Patrick Jane, of course, lying on the sofa, leafing through a glossy magazine devoted to the rich and famous of Northern California; and Teresa Lisbon, of course, sitting at her desk wrapping up paperwork.

At any rate, staring at paperwork. Occasionally staring at a corner of her desk or across the room. It didn't matter; she wasn't seeing any of it anyway.

There was tension around the corners of her eyes and mouth, but other than that she was still. Kimball Cho would have said she was very focused on a problem. Wayne Rigsby would have said she was madder than hell. They would have meant the same thing.

With economy of motion, she pushed her chair back, rose, and walked over to the sofa.

"Oh, hi, Lisbon." Jane didn't even glance at her. "Did you know Lori Carpenter used to date Arnie's brother before she married Arnie?"

"I do. Van Pelt found that out today when she interviewed Lori."

"Ah," Jane said, and turned a page.

"You owe Van Pelt an apology."

"I do?"

"Look at me when I'm talking to you."

He looked up, his eyebrows raised.

"You owe Van Pelt an apology. You'll give it to her first thing tomorrow where I can see and hear it. Don't. Whatever wisecrack you're about to make, don't. I've had it. You owe Van Pelt an apology, and you'll give it to her first thing tomorrow."

He was stirred enough by her anger to sit up and lay the magazine aside. "Can I just ask a question?"

"What?"

"What am I apologizing for?"

She just stared at him for a moment.

Then, "I don't know what's worse, the fact that you're insulting and insensitive or the fact that you don't know you're insulting and insensitive."

"Well, if _you_ can't even remember – "

"I told Rigsby to interview Lori Carpenter. Van Pelt asked if she could go instead, since Carpenter is heavily involved in women's causes and might open up more easily to a woman. Before I could say anything, you said to Van Pelt, 'Oh, come on, you've already broken Rigsby's heart, do you have to break everything else too?'"

Patrick muffled his chuckle a second too late. "Oh, come on. Even you have to admit that was kind of fun – "

"No. I don't have to admit that. I'll tell you what it was. It was unprofessional. It was sexist – you never would've said something like that to a man who wanted to do an interview. It was hurtful to Van Pelt. It was hurtful to Rigsby. And it undercut my authority. What it wasn't? Was funny."

Just faintly, his face was registering seriousness. "Come on, Lisbon, I've said worse."

"Tell me about it. And you've done worse! Do you know how often I've had to scramble, my bosses have had to scramble, to cool down important people after you pissed them off, not to get information but just because you felt like pissing someone off? How often the AG's office has had to cut a plea bargain with a major felon because they knew your way of catching him was illegal and wouldn't hold up in court? You think that having good intuition is a get-out-of-jail-free card for everything."

"Well, actually, if you remember, I did go to jail one time."

"I do. And I remember that I put two people's careers on the line – one of them mine – to get you out. Some people might have been grateful enough for that to change their behavior. Not you."

He stood. "Look, Lisbon – "

"It's like you're 10 years old and no one ever – "

She stopped suddenly, looking at him directly, and now he looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"But you never did, did you? You never had any kind of discipline."

He looked disgusted, averting his gaze. "Oh, believe me – "

"Oh, I'm sure you got hit." Her voice was quiet and calm. "When your father was angry or drunk. Not the same thing as teaching a brat that there are consequences for bratty behavior."

He was clearly stung. "Oh, if we're going to start discussing each other's childhoods – "

"All I did was bring up your personal life because I was angry and wanted someone else to be uncomfortable. Aren't you the one who thinks that kind of thing is funny?"

He shrugged a little, not meeting her eyes, putting on an innocent look. "OK, you're just being unreasonable."

"My office," she said crisply. "Now."

He looked around incredulously. "No one else is here."

"My office," and she pointed.

Grinning like a schoolboy caught in a prank, he preceded her into the office and watching smiling as she shut and locked the door. He dropped the smile when she started closing the blinds over the windows, watching her with objective interest. "You want to make sure the cleaning people don't see you killing me?"

"I'm offering you a choice, Jane." The rods turned briskly in her fingers, one after the other, shutting out the rest of the world. "The first is that I spank you like the brat you are, and I just hope that the embarrassment stops you the next time you feel like endangering a case or our careers or just slashing away at people's feelings because you want to."

He stared at her, stupefied, as the blind closed over another window.

Then he laughed. "You're joking, right?"

She stopped for a moment and turned to him. "Look at my face."

He looked, shook his head. "I'm twice your size."

"Not quite. But yes, I'm aware I couldn't force you into this. That's why it's a choice."

"Well, the other choice better be – "

"The other choice is that you no longer act as a consultant for this unit at the CBI."

His face went blank.

"Obviously I don't speak for everyone at the Bureau. With your case resolution rate, I know there are other units who'd be happy to have your work, and maybe they wouldn't care about how hard it would be to make convictions stick or about how you alienate everyone who could be a valuable resource. But this unit would no longer require your services."

He was completely silent as she finished closing the blinds.

Then he said, as if he were asking for help with a math problem, "Do you have any idea how many million dollars' worth of lawsuit you're proposing here?"

"Desperate times, Jane. And anyway, you won't sue."

"Um – why not?"

"Because on some level I think you know you deserve it. On some level I think that rampaging child in you wants an adult to draw a line."

He tried to look cajoling. "Come on, Teresa – "

"Make up your mind."

His chuckle was a little breathless. "You do understand that you're talking about the first scene of a porn movie, right?"

"Not the way I'll do it. Choose."

Their gazes met for a moment.

Then he sighed and rolled his eyes as if humoring her. "Fine, Lady T, let's get it over with. Do you take credit cards?"

She felt a little blank for a moment; she'd been running on emotion, for once, and hadn't considered practicalities. Then she saw a sturdy armless chair by one wall, pulled it further into the office and sat on it. She patted her lap once. "Come on."

A flash of angry resistance was replaced by the typical grin. "Oh, boy, this is gonna be good."

He lay face-down across her lap, and again here was something she hadn't considered: the feel of his body, his warmth and weight, pressing against her. Her breath caught, her focus went somewhere else, and her hand hesitated as she brought it down on the seat of his pants.

He gave a two-syllable hooting laugh. "Sorry. Tickled."

Not surprising. She would barely have noticed if she'd slapped her own face that hard.

She focused on her anger, on how desperate she was to change his behavior. She struck harder, the slap dulled by fabric, twice, three times.

His ribcage was shaking and she stopped.

"I know you're mad," he said, not even trying to subdue his laughter. "It's just such an odd penalty. You know, it's a common male fantasy, being spanked by a beautiful woman."

She felt a flinch go through her at his last two words, and that did it.

"Well, I guess I'm going to have to make you forget how damn beautiful I am."

She dug her hand under his body and he gave a startled, "Ow!" as she wrenched at his belt buckle. "Hey, you know if you – ow! – Lisbon, try to be rational about – damn!"

She almost never heard him swear. Good sign. She was half lifting him with her right hand, groping at his fly with her left, and really not caring how the belt buckle or zipper jabbed at him. When she used both hands to yank down his pants and underwear, something caught on him in front and he let loose with a four-letter word she'd never heard out of him.

It was surprisingly easy to pull his belt out through the belt loops, but still she had a couple of seconds to look at his naked buttocks, pale and slim and surprisingly well muscled. How did he keep a tush like that, lying around all day?

"All right, Lisbon, that's e – "

"Shut up and lie still," she said, and brought the doubled belt down on his backside.

He gave a short sharp yell and now she knew that she had his attention.

She brought the belt down hard. Again. Again. Suddenly she realized that she should remind him why this was happening, and she gave him a hard spank every few words. "You will not – endanger our cases. – You will not – endanger our careers. – You will not – undercut my authority."

His butt was striped red and jerking uncontrollably. He was giving tight little grunts, trying not to cry out.

She slammed the belt into the undercurve of his buttocks and his upper thighs, where he'd be reminded the next day. "And you will not – hurt your co-worker's feelings – just for fun. – The next time you feel – like saying something – you think is cute – "

He spasmed convulsively and she felt sticky wetness against her leg. He'd just come all over the leg of her black pants.

She hesitated, decided to pretend she hadn't noticed. " – maybe you'll think twice – before you say it."

She slapped the belt against his well reddened ass twice more.

Sitting back, knowing he couldn't see her, she rolled her arm and mouthed a silent "Ow." She hadn't realized how much muscle this would require. "OK. That's it."

He leaned his hands against her lap to stand. She held the belt up, averting her eyes as he pulled up his clothes and fastened his pants. "You'll apologize to Van Pelt tomorrow."

"Right." His voice was strained and expressionless.

She stood, and she couldn't ignore this anymore. Her pants were sticking to her. She went to her desk, opened a drawer and pulled out a couple of tissues as Jane walked to the office door, fumbling a little with the button lock before he opened it.

He looked back. "Sorry. I'll pay for the dry cleaning."

"They're wash-and-wear."

"Of course." He left.

The tissues weren't going to help. She needed to clean the clamminess off of her skin. But it would so not be a good idea to stick her hand down her pants just now.

She dropped into her desk chair, eyes closed, head back, trying to control her breathing.

.

Van Pelt and Rigsby were looking at a map spread out on a table when Jane arrived the next morning. Lisbon managed to get to the table a few seconds before Jane, who stood on the opposite side from the map studiers and didn't look at Lisbon at all. "Grace?"

She looked up at him.

"I made a remark yesterday – you may not remember it – "

"You said I was – " she paused, "hurting Wayne. Just because I suggested that I should do an interview."

He looked a little startled, as if he really hadn't expected her to remember.

"Emasculating," Rigsby said, looking at Jane with no love in his eyes. "That's the word you're looking for, Grace."

"Yeah – that. I'm sorry, Grace. You too, Rigsby. I think things are funny sometimes and I don't consider the effect on people when I say them. I apologize. Truly."

They were both thunderstruck.

Van Pelt recovered first. "It's OK. Don't worry about it."

"Thanks."

"You shouldn't let him off so easy, Grace," Rigsby said. "It was a lousy thing to say."

"And now he's apologized for it," Lisbon said. "So we can all move on."

"You know, I keep quiet when you mouth off at witnesses," Rigsby said. "But if you're going to start in on Grace – "

"Oh for God's sake, Rigsby!" Lisbon snapped. "The two of you broke up! You weren't even supposed to be dating in the first place! You don't need to act like a high-schooler defending his prom date!"

She went back to her office and didn't slam the door, but there was a distinct clack.

"Well, that was uncalled for," Van Pelt said.

Rigsby waved a hand. "We've all been under a lot of stress lately. She didn't mean anything by it."

"I beg to differ, Wayne." Jane was looking into Lisbon's office, the dark hair covering her face as she read a memo, and there was a smile on his lips. "I think she meant something very specific by it. Even if she doesn't know what it was herself."

He chuckled as he went over to the couch and dropped down on it. Then he said, "Ah," and hastily changed to his usual prone position.

.

By the second ring Lisbon was on her feet and looking at the clock. One o'clock. In the morning. She blinked, adjusting the oversized T-shirt she slept in so that the neck didn't slip down to reveal either shoulder.

By the third ring she'd managed to get to her door. She peered through the peephole with a blurry eye, sighed, undid the chain bolt and both deadlocks, and opened the door. "You'd better be here to tell me Headquarters is on fire."

Patrick Jane put a well shod foot in the doorway. "You owe Rigsby an apology," he said, and grinned.


	2. Chapter 2

For a moment she had no idea what he was talking about.

Then she did, and was wide awake in an instant. "Jane. I'm telling you this as a friend. Take your foot out of my door or I'll shoot it."

"Wouldn't that wake people up? Get a lot of attention? Of course, maybe you don't mind attention. I don't." He turned his face away from the door and raised his voice. "I have no shame at all in discussing how you told me to go to your office and lie across your lap and how you pulled down my – "

"OK, OK, come in!"

She made sure all the locks were re-locked before she turned to face him. "Now what's this all about?"

"Oh, I think you know. I insulted Grace and got a spanking. You insulted Rigsby, you get a spanking."

"You got a spanking for a lot more than just insulting Grace."

"Details. The point is that I experienced terrible degradation and I feel that retribution is necessary."

He had on his patented Patrick Jane guess-whether-I'm-really-serious look. She damn near smiled – What the hell? Did she think this was funny? – and instead put on her own patented I-haven't-laughed-in-ten-years-so-don't-even-try look. "Or what?"

The words were fast and fluid, a patter song. "Well, I see no other recourse for me than to sue the CBI. I know you thought I wouldn't, but I've had a lot of time to think about it since then and I've decided that I must spare others from the sexual harassment rampant in this workplace."

She raised an eyebrow. "Be hard to prove."

"Yes, yes, it would, even if a washing machine didn't manage to get every last molecule of my DNA out of your clothes. But I'm willing to try. In the name of protecting other innocent men from your depredations, in spite of my own embarrassment, I'm willing to file a report. I just hope it doesn't get out to the media, you know what they're like. 'Alleged Bare-Bottom Spanking at CBI Headquarters!' 'The Woman Accused of the Perverse Punishment!' 'Is the Detective a Dominatrix? Film at 11!' I mean, you know how these people are – "

"Enough." She held up her hand. "Where?"

He glanced around at her living room furniture, then up the stairs, where the light coming from her opened bedroom door could be seen over the railing.

His face still tilted up and to the side, his eyes slid back to look at her face, and their gazes locked.

Then she gave an exaggerated sigh. "Fine. Let's get this over with. And then neither of us ever speaks about any of this again, got it?"

"Absolutely."

She'd known professional muggers who sounded more trustworthy.

She preceded him up the steps, not wanting him to think that she was nervous about his looking at her thighs. When they entered her room, he took a moment to look around it appreciatively.

"Immaculate," he said in a complimentary tone. "And a nightstand box with slots for keys, badge, and phone. Did you have that made specially?"

"Jane."

"Yeah, sorry." He sat on her bed and patted his knee. "Come here, you abuser of authority."

Weirdly, she didn't mind it that much, lying across his legs with his warmth both under and over her.

"Mm," he said. "Prop your elbows on the bed and lift your head."

"Why?" But she was doing it and realized as she asked, looking into his merry reflection.

"You're reflected in the mirror that way. I want to watch your face."

"Oh, and I'm the perv— " Her voice stopped as he pushed the T-shirt up her back and slid one hand under her panties. "Uh, don't you want a belt?"

"No, Teresa, I don't." He was sliding her panties to her knees with excruciating care. "You spanked me with what you thought would make me most uncomfortable, and I'm going to do the same. Turnabout is fair play."

His hand slapped her right buttock sharply. She flinched, her eyes opened wide, seeing him watch her expression clinically.

His hand smacked her butt again and slid just a bit as he lifted it, almost a caress. Spank and touch. Spank and touch. He was taking his time and this was nothing like the brisk discipline she'd administered last night. She couldn't say that though because her jaw was clenched. Every muscle in her body was rigid, locked into position, except for the ones in her belly and ass, which were twitching and writhing uncontrollably.

He spanked harder and faster and she had to close her eyes and bite her lips, keeping her mewls of pain in her throat. Her butt and upper thighs were burning and tingling and her face was hot. His hand smacked down over and over, intense and hard and too personal, and she couldn't stop any of it.

Every muscle in her body gave way suddenly. She lay limp across his lap, feeling wetness in her groin, and he spanked her hard four more times before she gasped, "Patrick."

He stopped instantly.

"Now, Patrick. Don't let me think about it. Now."

He needed no explanation from her – had he ever? He gathered her up, his hands slid along her sides and over her breasts, and she raised her arms for the T-shirt to come off. He moved her to the middle of the bed and stood, whisking her panties off.

She lay still, her eyes closed, luxuriating in utter relaxation. Maybe, this night, with this man, it would be different. She could hear the whisper of fabric sliding, a zipper unzipping, and she hoped it wouldn't take him too long.

He slid onto the bed and over her, caressing her skin, kissing her mouth. In a way it felt like everything she'd ever wanted. In another way she felt suddenly tense, trapped by his body, weighted down by demand and expectation.

He sucked on her shoulder and his erection probed her eagerly. She took a deep breath, held it, remembered that this wasn't the way to relax, tried to breathe. She remembered how she'd felt seconds ago, relaxed and ready. Her arm and leg muscles loosened up, her neck and face eased; only her vagina didn't get the memo.

He tried to work his way into her gently, and she didn't even realize she was making sounds of discomfort until he desisted. "I'm hurting you."

"No. You're not. It's just – " Tears welled up in her eyes. Great, now she was going to be emotional on top of everything else. She turned her face and wiped the tears off angrily.

He sat up. "Teresa? Talk to me."

"Just – a recurring problem."

He was quiet for a moment. "You have a hard time letting anyone in."

She looked back at him. "Pot Calls Kettle Black. Film at 11."

His face acknowledged the truth of it, but he just asked, "Is there anything I can do?"

"No. There's something I can do." She sat up, finding it startlingly easy to talk to him even while they were both stark naked. "I've got a bottle of vodka downstairs. Two or three drinks, a little time for them to kick in, and I'm good to go. Do you want some?"

His face was quizzical. "Does that mean you can enjoy it more?"

"That means I can get it done."

"Oh. Well. That sounds erotic." He was thinking fast, by the look in his eyes. "But before we go the route where you're half passed out so your partner can have an orgasm – although believe me I do appreciate your generosity – let's try one other thing."

She figured she'd tried everything, but she couldn't help smiling. "What?"

He sat in a chair and suggested that she sit straddling his legs, facing him. She liked this position – at least she thought she remembered liking this position – and she looped her arms over his shoulders, smiling at him, though as she began trying to settle herself on him she wasn't sure it would make any difference.

Then he grabbed her, pinching the skin of her back so hard it hurt, crushed her breasts against his chest and bit her shoulder. She gasped.

She could feel his breath deep in her ear. "We don't need to fuck. I'm not going to fuck you because I've already had you. I've spanked your ass red, I bet my handprints are still on your butt, and that means you're mine already. And if you ever need a reminder I'll take you over my knees – "

He kept talking, but she couldn't focus because she was opening up like a nature-film flower in fast forward. She gave a soft keening moan as she writhed on him, letting him part-way in, all the way in, and now her powerful muscles could do some good. His voice choked off and she sank her nails into his back, moving so wildly it was a good thing he was holding her hard. He came fast, with a surprised noise; she saw stars and blanked out; and when she was aware again she was still clutching his cock, undulating and demanding, "More. More."

He chuckled breathlessly. "Sweetheart, I would if I could."

She slowed, stopped, rested her head on his shoulder.

He stroked her back gently and gave a shaky sigh.

A laser pierced the fog in her brain: Was this the first time he'd made love since his wife had been murdered?

For a wild moment she thought she ought to extend some comfort, some acknowledgement that this might be a difficult moment for him. Thank God Teresa Lisbon arrived in time to take the reins from the sensual emotional mess straddling Patrick Jane's lap: He wouldn't tell you, he wouldn't discuss it, and he would hate even having the issue raised.

And certainly she had issues of her own to deal with. She buried her face in his neck as she thought about the last few minutes. "God, that's embarrassing."

His chin moved on her neck, as if he'd cocked his head. "Your – enthusiasm? Or the fact that you need a little roughness?"

"That one. The last. I didn't ever – I mean, a few times I've thought about – but I shut it down. I'm not some, some passive sick nitwit." She straightened a little but couldn't quite look at him. "How long have you known? Does everyone – I mean, am I walking around the office with a sign around my neck that says, For a Good Time Spank Me?"

He could obviously tell it upset her and was obviously repressing amusement. "No. Although, I'd love to see Cho's face trying to deal with it." He tipped her head back so that she was facing him, although she still couldn't quite meet his eyes. "It was last night. I get your point about – the way I am sometimes. I do. But that was irrational behavior, and you're not irrational. I started wondering if you were trying to tell me something, without even realizing it. When you yelled at Rigsby today, I was pretty sure. I figured I'd start pushing and see how far you'd let me go."

"Oh, I see," she said, trying to sound objective.

She pulled away from him and stretched out on top of the sheets she'd been sleeping in a half-hour ago – not much point in trying to cover herself. Limber and graceful, Patrick slid over the mattress alongside her, and she closed her eyes.

After a moment he said, "I do think people will notice if you never look at me again."

She smiled a little, opened her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm appalled at myself, not you."

He propped his elbow on the mattress and his head on his hand. "Well, Lisbon," he said, exactly as if they were arguing in the office, "you know sex is about messy unexpected desires, right? It's not a – It's not the CBI Manual of Procedure."

Explosively, "You know we have a procedures manual?"

He gave her the innocent look and she felt her lips quirk. "Of course I do. Tried to read it once, very boring and pedantic, couldn't make it past page two."

She heard a relaxed bubbling laugh come out of her throat as he nuzzled her shoulder. "All I'm saying," he continued, "is don't be embarrassed. All kinds of people respond to all kinds of things. Almost nothing is as freakish as you might think it is."

"Mm. Like shoulder fetishes?"

His grin was lupine. "I was going to go for your neck, but I knew you wouldn't want marks where they could be seen when you got dressed for work."

She shook her head. "It's not fair. I'm never going to understand as much about you as you do about me."

There was silence while he kissed her breasts, her neck, her lips. "I wouldn't bet on that, Teresa," he whispered. "I wouldn't bet on that at all."


End file.
